


Witch of Secrets

by Pumpkinium



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), One-Sided Attraction, Self-Indulgent, Spoilers for 5.0 Onwards, ambiguous POV because i'm not experienced with writing lol, rating and tags and ships will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkinium/pseuds/Pumpkinium
Summary: A small mi'qote WoL by the name of Risvyn Revolc manages to steer the reigns of fate in the direction she wants, though not without the path being fraught with peril...
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 2





	1. I am the light

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing something with public consumption in mind so bear with me, i'm no expert. <:) that being said, this is going to be self indulgent since i've taken up writing to distract myself and i enjoy putting my wol in Situations. in the future this is gonna become multiship, and the rating will definitely change because there will be smut if i don't lose attention span. anyway thanks for looking i hope you enjoy!!

“I could not well leave matters half-finished.” The battered Exarch announced, much to the irritated surprise of Emet-Selch.

“Let expanse contract, eon become instant! Champions from beyond the rift, heed my call!” With the whittling strength he had left, the Exarch slammed down his staff and pillars of light surrounded the o’ fabled Warrior of Darkness, ready to transport any heroes willing to lend their aid in her duty of slaying yet another villain that stands against her. At least, that had _been_ the plan at the moment.

The warrior in question, Risvyn Revolc, stood in the center of the pillars in her battle stance… trembling. She was a little thing for her tens of heroic titles. A Miqo’te of only 21 winters, with pale skin only standing 4’11”, with big, deep blue eyes widened with panic. The grip on her black mage staff, adorned with a sculpted dragon head around the foci, was very tight, but it served as an easy visual indication of just how much she was shaking. Ardbert mere moments ago finally found his place joining with her, as a result the light that threatened to break her apart stayed itself a little longer. If only to let her more keenly focus on how much she vehemently did not like being in this situation one bit! Ever since Emet introduced himself, she knew he was special, and Ardbert’s joining only strengthened that idea. Before the projection of Amaurot’s doom, she tried desperately to reason with him about the process of rejoining, but he refused to listen. The Scions didn’t help the situation get any better. Through the blur of her panic, words were being exchanged, probably at her…? She was too paralyzed to pay attention. Every one of her senses smothered, standing like a deer ready to bolt.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk or are we going to finish this _sometime today?”_ Emet-Selch impatiently spewed upon deaf ears. 

The Crystal Exarch, weakly putting his weight onto his staff, appeared dumbfounded. “Risvyn? Risvyn!” He called to her, and it seemed to break her out of her trance to glance at him, albeit rather slowly, the terror never left her eyes. “You must be prepared to fight! I can’t- The summons won’t last much longer!” He shouted with urgency, and she slowly returned her gaze to the Ascian before her, eyes and ears finally paying attention… but she couldn’t. She wasn’t going to fight. The pain in her heart only worsened and it all felt so wrong.

“Come, let us cast aside our titles and pretense, and reveal our true faces to one another!” Emet-Selch growled out, the aether around him swelling with severe intensity, it caused Risvyn to panic even further. Her briefly focused ears went back to laying flat, her tail tucking between her legs. Cowering.

**“I am Hades! He who shall awaken our brethren from their dark slumber!”**

That name, Hades! It sounds so familiar--

Before Risvyn could ponder it anymore, her thoughts nearly taking her focus away again, Hades’ aether swelled exponentially, sucking all the aether he used to continue his projection of the final days into himself and leaving a dead, destroyed city in his wake. He grew tall, into a monstrous mage, wielding a staff bearing Zodiark himself, and decorated with his own bright crimson leylines. Armed to the teeth.

“RISVYN!” The Exarch screamed out from behind Hades in panic, the summoning circles fading away with no one to help her. All she could do was… laugh? No, she was crying, too. She was hysterical. Her staff clattered to the ground and all she did was collapse soon after, lying on her side and crying loudly, speaking words incoherently, squeezing her knees to her chest and shrinking before Hades.

 _“What?”_ Hades whispered to himself, **“WHAT!?”** he boomed, which only caused Risvyn to yelp in response and shudder at his anger. He dragged his massive form over to her and loomed over her tiny body, pointing both an accusatory clawed finger and his massive staff at her. “You are going to **GIVE UP?!”** He moved even closer, startling her out of her position and scrambling backwards, closer to the edge of the building they were on. “I didn… I-I-” Risvyn’s messy stuttering got interrupted by Hades stomping ever closer, another quick kick of her legs to move her to the very edge, not able to go any further lest she plunge into the abyss below. “H-Hades!” She sobbed so pitifully, so much fear in her voice, her body wracked with trembles and twitches far out of her control. The crack in her voice when she spoke his true name could only send a pang of sadness straight to his heart, as hard as he was trying to hide it. “P-please w-w-wait, I-I..” Her body convulsed and her voice wavered so violently, never had he seen the warrior so utterly terrified.

An invisible battle was being fought in his mind with the reasoning of his ancient god as he waited in complete silence while Risvyn stewed in her sad puddle. Zodiark damn him that he didn’t just end her pathetic life right now. She couldn’t hold the light, she failed him, she was not to be the steward of this star, and yet…

He knew what he saw was no trick of the light.

“I-I w-wanted… Ghhk- A-another way... Please! A-anything but th-this.” She stammered and begged to him, still cowering and hiding her face, like she’ll be slain any second. 

Hades emitted a defeated sigh, “Another way, despite my statements about a path of lesser bloodshed, despite the light within you incinerating your soul as we speak… You would still have your other way?” Hades spoke slowly, with exhaustion in his tone, and Risvyn could only nod her head at him. Another moment passes and Hades leans down and picks the little mage and her staff up into the smaller set of arms coming out of his robes. She hesitated a little bit, afraid of what he was doing until she realized he was just carrying her. He let her lay along his forearm and used his now free arm to gather up the Exarch as well. Dematerializing the staff, he used his larger claws to gingerly pick up the downed Scions. Once accounted for, he silently carried them back out to the entrance of the building and set them all down. He sighed once more and allowed himself to shed his powerful mage visage back to his Garlean self. He appeared to look even further tired than he ever has before.

“Well… Elidibus will certainly be very upset with me if he learns just how much benefit of the doubt I’ve extended to you.” Emet-Selch spoke, laced with pure attitude. “I am taking risks that are going _entirely_ against everything we’ve worked on for many millennia. I will continue to linger and offer my knowledge to your desire to seek a better path, however hopeless I imagine it will be. If Elidibus starts calling, I’m afraid I would rather end it than be subjected to his lecturing. Do I make myself clear?” He spoke to only Risvyn and the Exarch, the Scions were still not entirely conscious. 

Risvyn had been rubbing her arm anxiously and recovering from that horrible situation, but she nodded to Emet, refusing to look directly at him. “We will try our best to find alternative means.” Exarch spoke plainly. This was all Risvyn’s idea, he, quite frankly, would rather use the time to find a faster way to cut Emet-Selch down now that he wasn’t his prisoner. 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Emet turned around and waved, a lot lazier than usual, and walked through a portal to who knows where. It seemed impossible yet he managed to look even more hunched over than before.

Risvyn and Exarch exchanged weary glances, then worked towards getting their companions up and back to the Crystarium.

\---------------

The next day, all were to gather in the Ocular once they were ready. Risvyn and the Exarch gave brief summaries of last night’s events to the battered Scions, informing it would be elaborated on the morrow. Now while the eternal light casts everything in sickly faux sunshine yet still, slowly did the group trickle into the Ocular.

First through the crystal doors and into the Exarch’s peripheral was Urianger, taking his position off to the side and exchanging smiles with the Exarch. “Tis’ good to see you whole and hale.” The elezen made polite conversation, 

“Aha, yes, I’m surprised to still be standing despite my plans of sacrifice. Though it begs the question: for how long?”

“Nay, thou should cherish thy moments before letting the unforeseen future cast shadows upon it.” Urianger responded, and the Exarch pondered his words, giving a thoughtful hum. 

Next through the doors was Thancred and Ryne, with nods of greeting exchanged. “I hope the first words of news out of someone’s mouth is that the Ascian politely be rid of his tether to the land of the living.” Thancred announced, to which Ryne’s gaze cast to the floor. She wasn’t so sure about that after what they saw yesterday. 

Thancred’s hopes were diminished when the only response he was granted was the familiar, twisted hum of aether warping around itself to let Emet-Selch walk through a portal into the room. “Your little kitten begged me in tears to not let things end in bloodshed, dear boy. You have her to thank.” Emet leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, scanning the room with the same bored gaze he always wore. Thancred could only respond with an annoyed grunt. 

Finally, the last of the group trickled in. Y’shtola first, followed by the twins with Risvyn in tow. She moved sluggishly, the light was still within her and it made almost every action a chore. Risvyn carried herself into the room and plopped herself on the floor next to Emet, leaning against the wall while sitting and sighing. Her eyes scanned the room and addressed everyone with a weak smile, even Thancred with his sour expression. He noticed she always liked being in close proximity to the Ascian ever since he showed up and he hated it. Emet’s smile to her almost looked sincere, but his eyes were sad seeing her in such a blindingly sorrowful state.

“Well, it’s good to see you, G’raha Tia.” Risvyn spoke, and G’raha’s ears perked up while a soft blush spread across his features. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “It’s good to be, yes. I was going to address that, but I believe last night’s events should be shared foremost.” 

“Right…” Risvyn took a deep breath, and steeled herself.

“Do some of you recall the Warriors of Darkness that appeared during our business in Dravania?” A few nods and hums in response, “The leader of the group being a man with an axe who called himself Arbert, and sacrificed himself and his companions lives to work with the Ascians in an attempt to save this world from the light, and Minfillia halted the flood, and all that? Well, when G’raha first summoned me to the First, and I became situated, Arbert, his true name is actually Ardbert, showed himself to me.” The Scions looked quizzical at that statement. “He was… For lack of better understanding, a ghost. I was the only one who could see him, he claimed. The only one who could hear him and speak to him. He lingered with me all this time, saying he was wandering for a hundred years since the flood was halted, unsure why his soul was still bound to this world. He thought it was a curse for being responsible for causing the flood.” She paused, gathering her words.

“Yesterday, in the recreation of Amaurot, when I went to find a visitor’s writ, I was approached by a shade.” Emet-Selch quirked a brow. “He said his name was Hythlodaeus, offered to keep me company while I waited to get the writ. He said he was a close friend to Emet-Selch in the past, said he knew this was all just a recreation. That maybe Emet-Selch let a stray thought pass him by when creating his friend… ‘Hythlodaeus will know the truth.’” Emet stared down at the floor, eyes a little wide. “He recalled everything about how the world was whole, and then sundered, just as Emet truthfully explained to us. Then he pointed out there was another with me. He couldn’t see his form, but he could see his soul. It was Ardbert… And… Hyth told me his and my soul were of the same color, it is no coincidence. We were one in their time. He said that Emet must’ve known, deep down, because he was attached to me, in that time, but…” Risvyn looked up at Emet, his eyes transfixed on the floor, absolutely avoiding everyone right this moment. “I’m one to think he knew this whole time, and the tether to Zodiark along with his own grief is simply eating him up inside every moment of every day.”

The room was very quiet, observing the two against their wall. Risvyn was the one boring a hole into Emet’s skull with her soft feline gaze, his expression was a troubled frown. She spared the poor Ascian the scrutiny by continuing. “So, after that, we know what happened, got into a few spats that I really didn’t want to go through at all!” She said with a sarcastic smile, “Then, things started getting hazy, I remember collapsing to the light, Ardbert was there, and then I think his soul finally was put to rest in… Me. He rejoined with me, and with that, the light got a little more bearable but everything I was feeling did not. G’raha tried to help me fight, I was paralyzed with fear and collapsed again anyway, refusing to fight, Emet revealed his name was Hades-- Which, by the way, still sounds _very_ familiar on my tongue! Then I begged for more time to figure all this out and find a different way, and now we’re here.” Risvyn finished, matter-of-factly. “I’d say this comes as a surprise to you all more than it does me, because I knew something special was going on the moment he introduced himself. Everything further only cemented it.” Risvyn giggled a little, the levity made Emet’s dissociative gaze lessen while his lips curved into a slight smile.

“Emet-Selch.” Y’shtola’s stern voice called out when no one else knew what to say yet, he raised his head, humming a low tone in response to note she has his attention. “Who was Risvyn to you before all of this? Before Zodiark?” Emet-Selch looked away again, another long silence as his gaze was thousands of yalms away. Finally, he lifted his head, his brows knit, and that solemn, defeated smile spread across his face.

“Delaedium, carrying the title of Machef-Sevit, the Archivist, of the Convocation of fourteen… And my lover.” Emet-Selch’s crossed arms only squeezed closer to his body. Curse her for asking the right question just this one time. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Thancred grunted, the others in the room looked shocked or surprised, Ryne was fascinated, and Risvyn had a wondrous gaze fixed on Emet-Selch, glitter in her eyes. “Lover..? Title!? I remember the shade of Hythlodaeus said- wait… He said there was 14 but then 13… What happened?”

Emet-Selch’s defeated expression turned sour, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You left before we summoned Zodiark, thinking it was a bad idea and bent on being as far away from everything as possible. You avoided the fate of being an Ascian only for Hydaelyn to snatch you up the first chance she got.” Emet sounded upset, letting out a stressed sigh. “Forgive me, these memories ache, though I must speak the truth lest I say nothing at all.”

“You must?” Y’shtola repeated, tilting her head, “Do you mean to say that you’re forced to?”

“The title of Emet-Selch has a purpose just like any other seat, such as Elidibus being the Emissary or Lahabrea being the Speaker. However the direct translation of the title in your tongue would roughly mean ‘Angel of Truth.’ In further ancient times when the convocation was erected as the government system for Amaurot, the Angel of Truth had to do just that. Consider them figureheads of reason, wisdom, or justice. Over time, the office of Emet-Selch gained it’s own obligations beyond merely telling the truth. I am not ‘forced’ by any magic influence to always tell the truth, no, but the vows that we must follow upon promotion still kept the original purpose of the title. In matters of great importance such as now, I would carry a further insurmountable guilt should I ever speak a lie. I’ve held my office for thousands of years and I do not intend to break my vows.” Emet explained at length to Y’shtola, who hummed with satisfied interest at his detailed answer. Thancred’s grumbling only continued with this newfound knowledge knowing he can’t even accuse Emet of lying anymore.

“Before we get too caught up in fascinating trivia, might I stress that our Warrior of Darkness is still being crushed by an unimaginable amount of light?” The Exarch spoke up, fidgeting a little bit. “If we are to do as she requested and seek this path without bloodshed, it would be wise to ensure she doesn’t turn into a sin-eater that _hungers_ for bloodshed.” Risvyn shifted a little, being reminded of just how uncomfortable all the light made her feel. G’raha continued to speak, “I recall researching in my spare-time about the matter of souls in regards to the camp Alisae guarded that houses those who slowly turn to sin-eaters to see if the effects could be reversed. There are a few tasks we could try that just might help.” 

Risvyn slowly stood up from her sitting position, she knew where this was going. “Sounds great, let me know when you figure it out.” She started to walk towards the doors, much to Emet’s mild amusement. The others gave a few awkward stares, and she turned around to face them. “Listen, I know there are ‘tasks’ but I’m bloated with light and you’re all morbid for expecting me to be doing anything but resting right now. I’m dying. There’s too much shit on my mind. Send someone to my room if it’s important.” As she turned back towards the door, her eyes caught Emet’s and she winked before anyone could notice, taking her leave and dragging herself back to her room in the Pendants.

The light creaked and cracked through her brain and body with her every step, casting everything in a whitened filter through her eyes. Carefully was she focused on just reaching her room, making sure not to bump into anything along the way. Now that her adrenaline wasn’t going in the heat of the moment like yesterday, she truly believes she absolutely won’t be fit to fight until her ailment is eased. Every blink of her eyes is slowed, and it feels like every time they close, she has to fight to open them again before she succumbs to passing out. It made her so tired by squeezing her soul, her own aether, down to almost nothing. Finally her trek comes to a close as she waves at the Pendants clerk and drags her heels the final steps up to her door. She unlocked and nudged it open, closing it behind her and locking, then she walked further and her legs hit the side of her bed frame, letting herself collapse like a felled tree onto bed. She wiggled into comfort a little more and sighed, sleep taking her in mere moments…

\---------------

Within the Ocular, the rest of the Scions, Emet-Selch, and G’raha Tia, continued to discuss their plans in absence of the warrior. Though, Emet was mostly silent. Planning and plotting against their every move as they spoke it, just in case this granted downtime went south and the Rejoining needed to be enacted once more.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll set out to find the Nu Mou, in hopes we may learn more in matters of the soul. Perhaps they will know how to ease our friend’s aether. We’ll leave on the morrow.” G’raha Tia concluded. The Scions began dispersing, and Emet-Selch pondered their discussions, he found it amusing that not once had any of them merely asked him for the information they sought. Not that he truly cared, the more it delayed them, the better. He knew if someone simply asked, he could whisk away dear Risvyn’s overflowing soul of aether in a heartbeat. Instead, her fake friends thought it best to leave the scary Ascian completely out of the equation. Dare he threaten to taint their precious warrior with his evil aether! Pathetic. Even so, he might just ease her suffering himself in secret. His lover’s halved soul did desperately crave to find another way out, it’d be too much of a shame for him to stand by and watch her turn into a wonderful beast of light before she could dare to achieve anything.

“You still remain, Ascian.” G’raha spoke, watching Emet-Selch think. 

He spurred out of his thoughtfulness and shrugged an arm. “Merely occupied with my thoughts. Am I simply that smelly to you that I must ponder elsewhere?”

“Not smelly, no. I am at least thankful your kind has not forsaken hygiene.”

“Quite.” Emet-Selch began taking his leave before a thought stopped him. “Ah- I do want to formally apologize for the condition you were put in during the last week or so. I’m certain you understand that I had only acted out of self-defense to your rage after I kidnapped you, yes?”

“I suppose.” G’raha gave a mild glare, not fond of the events he referred to.

“Perhaps we may stand on more common ground if our dear warrior finds the alternative path she seeks. After all, I haven’t neglected my keen interest in your methods to achieve everything that this tower does not.”

G’raha continued to just watch him, listening, not particularly enjoying himself, and wanting the Ascian to leave.

“Bah, even now that your hood is down you’re _still_ no fun at all! You remind me of this body’s foolish grandson.” Emet-Selch turned back towards the doors and began to leave. “Do remember; despite having to shoot you, I _did_ save you from your selfmade tragic fate.” He called to the Exarch, the doors eventually closing behind him.

G’raha let out a puff of sigh, turning around to meditate by gazing through his portal. What he said may be true, and maybe somewhere in his breast could he find a speck of thankfulness, but now that he’s finally alone in his Ocular could he start lamenting what he feared from the beginning. That glint of joy Emet-Selch brings to Risvyn’s eyes was _robbed_ from him and only further cemented by his truth that they were lovers in their past life. Lovers! He almost prefers the oblivion now over living with this empty existence. He sought relief in the form of hopeless longing, flicking his portal to observe Risvyn sleeping soundly in her room. Only the slightest expression of discomfort knit over her features as she bears the light. 

He gazed upon her for what felt like hours until his blissful observance was disrupted by a void portal manifesting in her room. Emet-Selch walked through and stood over Risvyn as she slept, kneeling down and scrutinizing her before holding his hand out to her heart. The agitated expression on her face began to lax and she looked much more peaceful after the undetermined motion the Ascian made. Did he simply provide the slightest bit of balance to her aether? G’raha’s ears went flat with annoyance, this Ascian remained silent while the Scions planned a goose chase to solve this very issue, full well knowing he could solve it in mere moments?! Not only that, but he can’t even tell anyone what he observed, lest he admit to peeking in places he shouldn’t be!

G’raha Tia slammed his staff on the ground in a minor fit, shutting the image off and leaving the Ocular in a huff to find some other way to occupy his mind.


	2. To your darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scions toil to learn of matters of the soul to ease their burdens, but only to be met with further problems.

T’was late in the ‘next day’, as some would refer to it despite the primordial light, and the harbinger of said light had been taking it easy for most of the day. Her head definitely felt a lot less heavier than yesterday, and she’s thankful for that. Late in the afternoon she received a knock on the door. “What is it?” Risvyn called.

“Tis’ I.” Comes Y’shtola’s voice. “We may have already found a method to handle your aether. We tested it on those who’ve suffered from the light at the camp in Amh Araeng and saw rebalancing take place with our very eyes. If you would come to the Ocular when you’re ready?”

Risvyn’s tail and ears perked up at how fast they may have found a solution, “Ah, yes! I’ll be there.”

Y’shtola hummed in acknowledgement and walked back towards the Ocular. Risvyn put on whatever gear she found necessary, then took her time heading towards the tower. Once she pushed open the doors, she was greeted by the gathering of Scions, Ascian, Exarch, and… Nu Mou? 

“Ah, there you are. Might I catch you up to speed?” G’raha addressed Risvyn, she nodded. He proceeded to describe the process of finding Beq Lugg and gaining his trust so he may share his expertise on souls. Their efforts took them to Amh Araeng to test out a method of reversing aether stagnation, both corporeal and incorporeal. The method involved channeling aether through a familiar into Halric, the Au’ra boy pushed nearly to the brink by light, in an attempt to hasten the process of the aether balancing itself and recovering. Beq Lugg had seen the effects before his very eyes. A recovery that would’ve taken decades may now take a vastly shorter amount of time.

“Huh! How fruitful.” Risvyn was delighted to hear all they’ve learned.

“Risvyn! Do you know what this could mean, given enough patience and practice?” Risvyn looked at Alisae, not catching her drift. “Remember Ga Bu? This same process could reverse his tempering!” She was overjoyed, and Risvyn smiled, remembering what she was talking about.

Emet-Selch, leaning against the wall away from everyone, as is his signature pose, frowned. Reverse tempering. _Reverse tempering._ Do they understand what box of horrors they’ve just opened up? What is stopping them from getting other people tempered to Hydaelyn with this knowledge? Getting him tempered to Hydaelyn? Ripping him away from the one true god to brainwash him? He was disgusted with where this was going but if he made any move or spoke any words, he feared he’d give them a reason to acknowledge him. He had almost wanted to help by sharing his two gil on the fact that even if they _did_ attempt this method on their blindingly bright warrior, it would take a fountain of aether that only someone like himself has to even dent all the light within her. Not to mention that the familiar is a third party because these feeble souls can’t focus well enough to do it themselves.

“We may have a slight problem…” Beq Lugg spoke up, an inquisitive claw rested on his chin. “Though our methods are still sound… I didn’t grasp how much aether we would be dealing with when you mentioned the Warrior of Darkness. All of our aether combined would not ease her at all.” Beq Lugg glanced about the room, doing a double take at Emet-Selch, he lazily looked back. “Ohh… He has an overabundance- His could do the trick if he were to channel the familiar!”

All eyes were on him. Great. Perfect. Emet-Selch feigned some level of unawareness and stood up a little more straight, “I beg your pardon?” his tone implied he wasn’t listening.

“Why, certainly if you still desire to aid the warrior, donating your bountiful reservoir of darkness to completely rebalance both her and this world should be an easy task for you, is it not?” Thancred sneered at Emet-Selch.

The Ascian blinked slowly at Thancred, definitely thinking he is stupid without saying it. “Were it that simple. I must remind that Elidibus is still my associate, and should he notice the First going backwards in swift trajectory, it would only endanger you all and most likely null my ability to aid you. All I’ve done is stall the inevitable for you in the event you surprise me with an alternative method to achieve our goal. Elidibus…” Emet paused, giving weight to his next words, carefully. “Elidibus has his methods of correction should he deem my actions harmful to our goal. Thus, I’m afraid that is not within my boundaries of aiding you.” He rubbed his gloved finger between his lips. “Ah! Though I can admit, I am able to provide minute relief to the light that plagues you, but nothing too drastic. Enough to keep you moving without Elidibus discovering your surprise corpseless endeavor all too soon!” He smiled to Risvyn, hopefully that should suffice.

The Exarch frowned at Emet-Selch, remembering what he saw yesterday.

“So even if we could find an alternative bounty of aether, you would still need to warn us about Elidibus?” Risvyn reiterated.

“Yes, that is the reality. I would even point out that we are standing in an alternative reservoir of aether at this very moment, should the Exarch harness it to rebalance your soul, the same events I stated before would still come into play.”

“I see…” Risvyn quickly accepted the truth, something cold flickered behind her eyes that no one could quite see. “Well, I can last if this light can be kept quelled, even should I have to carry it. I’m sorry we couldn’t test out the idea on myself, but I’m glad you all learned about it. It would still be helpful for those like Ga Bu and Halric.” She addressed everyone in a neutral tone. 

“Are you… Sure you’re alright with that?” Alisae questioned.

“Of course not!” Risvyn announced with sarcastic enthusiasm, but quickly reverted to a more genuine tone, albeit minorly agitated. “I chose to beg for this path myself, so I’m going to have to live under these consequences if I want to see it through.” She sighed. “That being said, thank you for your help, Beq Lugg, it’s invaluable in the long run, I’d say.”

“Well, sure. I’m glad to atone in some way for what happened in Voeburt.”

_“Special deliveryyyyyy~!”_ A high pitched, bodiless voice resounded through the room, leaving many confused in it’s wake.

“Feo ul!” Risvyn exclaimed, and everyone’s confusion soon faded away with the burst of pixie dust that appeared before Risvyn. Feo Ul seemed to be carrying a letter addressed to her.

“Yes, my lovely sapling! This ere’ came from the li’l lass at your home! Tataru!” They dropped the letter into Risvyn’s hands and she smiled and nodded to the fairy.

“Thank you! It must be important… This is the first time she’s sent something this way.”

“Indeed! I’ll leave you to it!” Just like they arrived, they were gone, and Risvyn set to opening the letter and reading it.

“Ah…” The warrior sounded… Discomforted. She passed the letter to Alphinaud, who took to having better public speaking skills than she did.

Alphinaud mumbled the pleasantries that littered the beginning of the letter and skimmed to the point. “Krile informs that the bodies of the Scions appear to be... slowly deteriorating due to the lack of souls to accompany them, the worst of it in the same order they went unconscious. It is unknown what will happen if they continue this way, and how much time they have to rectify it, though it does appear to be happening at a slow enough rate…” Alphinaud lowered the letter, looking around at everyone. “By the twelve, I suppose our next endeavor has immediately presented itself.” Some heads went downcast, the prospect of having to leave the first for good is saddening.

“Yes… My death was supposed to recall your souls back to the source, but... seeing how that was _denied.”_ G’raha shot a glare at Emet.

“You’re welcome.” Emet shot back.

“We will have to explore our options. Dare I trouble you for further assistance, Beq Lugg?” The Exarch inquired of the Nu Mou. “Happily.” He responded. A lot of individual chatter began and Risvyn started tuning out a lot of it, not really one for nitty gritty details unless it was truly important. She shambled over by Emet and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“Time does not appear to be on your side, hero.” Emet spoke softly, almost with a hint of pity.

“I guess so.” Was all she could say, tracing her fingers along the markings in the floor. One would think she was merely stressed out by the light and the present circumstances, wracking her brain for this supposed path she had no idea existed, hoping to just will it into existence so these conflicts would have an end. However, her mind was already set elsewhere.

If she left her world with Zodiark, then why would she willingly go back into it?

She wonders if Emet knows that she knows that, or if he’s just mindlessly humoring her. How guarded is he? The one who she loved, who loved her, yet seems ever distant. Despite her attachment to him, and his passive affections to her, no one ever made a move. Who, then, is to blame? Who has broken down the one her soul longs for onto a path of further false hope? And who, given Emet’s truths, has sullied her most ancient memories and taken them away from her, so that she may not remember her lover until he has to spell it out for her?

Her and Emet both have a lot of aether welled up in them. That’s what she’s been thinking about.

\---------------

Experiments in transporting their souls back to the Source had begun in earnest over the next few weeks. Emet had lingered for most of them despite Risvyn’s absence, she valued her alone time, and he was curious if they could figure this feat out a second time. They were so far engrossed in their tasks that…

“It’s awfully obvious that you’re trying to steal our work for your own gain.” Thancred spat at Emet-Selch, who was paying attention to G’raha and Urianger’s musings over a particular method.

“You wound me, however I must correct you that there’s not much we Ascians can honestly gain from this particular knowledge if we’re to be seeking the rejoining. This is interesting to me in of itself that you, as sundered fragile souls, are attempting to recreate something very highly advanced that we didn’t put forth the research for. It was easier for us to simply send an ascian to a shard, than send the shard’s inhabitants to us, for we had no use for the shard’s feeble individuals.” Emet-Selch explained.

“I just wish you were somewhere else.” Thancred admitted.

“Tsk, I’d pester our little hero, but she seems focused on-” Emet was staring blankly at the wall, particularly in the direction he last saw her bright beacon of a soul in it’s current state. He started looking around and squinting, if one didn’t know any better it was like he was trying to track an insect in the room. “I can’t see her.”

“Well, yes, she’s not in this room. What do you mean? Her aether?” Thancred questioned.

“Yes, I am able to see her awfully bright aether for malms, but- Now that I think of it I don’t think I’ve actually interacted with her in days…” He stopped looking around, flitting through his recent memories if he’s missing something. “Have you seen her either?”

“No, is this some kind of trick?” Thancred accused.

“Why would I be asking _you_ if-!” Emet raised his voice in irritation, foregoing the rest of his sentence to stand up and approach the rest of the Scions. “Have any of you seen or interacted with Risvyn in the past week?” His response seemed to garner no confirmations. Ryne seemed to be looking around just like he did moments ago.

“The primordial light is still here, but… She’s always like a walking beacon, yet this time I cannot seem to find her.” Ryne explained with worry.

“I had done the same thing and even I can’t gleam her soul.” Emet cemented the issue. “I think I’ll go searching. Perhaps she’s just found a hidden place, or went a lot farther than expected.” With that, he disappeared in a puff of black and violet.

His quarry proved difficult to find, he scoured every nook and cranny of Norvrandt, the light made it almost taxing for him, but he’ll live. It wasn’t until he saved the worst for last, Amh Araeng, that he glimpsed a speck far, far off into the empty. Doesn’t that place serve to turn oneself into a sin eater far faster..? 

_No… It can’t be..._

Emet warped closer to the source of light, ever blinding, ever snuffing out the soul it belongs to. It was very difficult to tell from afar just what this soul belonged to. He took to walking as an act of wariness, taxing as it is, to sneak up the mounds of lifeless sand. He dragged himself a small ways, the terrain very difficult on foot, but he dare not risk himself should he find a sin eater. At last, he snuck up a mound and peered over it, unfocusing his sight to look at what harbored that bright soul…

_No..!_

Emet nearly tripped over his own feet jumping over the hill and sliding down towards Risvyn, who was collapsed on the ground in front of a large, partly destroyed piece of wall belonging to some ruins. Her skin looked pale and dusted in white. He crouched down beside her and tried to rouse her, her soul was far too harsh to look at. “Oh, hero, what am I to do with you!” He muttered as he tried to spark some life into her. Finally, she began coughing, sputtering out the fluid light onto the worn ground. “Risvyn! Let’s get you out of here, I’ll siphon some of the light-”

“Don’t!” Risvyn’s voice was very rough and she coughed more, her whole body shuddering.

“What do you mean _don’t!_ What in Zodiark even happened to have you way out here!?”

“I… Wanted this…”

“I-” Emet was flabbergasted, “You wanted to turn? Out here?? What of my summons to the Tempest, I never _resigned_ my offer to allow you some dignity! I’m lost as to why you…”

He kept talking away out of mild panic, out of the spontaneousness of it all, Risvyn could only struggle to keep her eyes open. She whispered something inaudible, but he kept pushing questions. Truly, Emet-Selch was at a loss, desperately pleading to let him siphon the light while a shadow looms from beyond the wall, very tall, stretching far across the wasteland behind the Ascian. 

“... to say I’m opposed since it falls into the plans for rejoining but I simply don’t get what your motive is to do this so abruptly. I-”

“Hades…”

“... What is it?”

“I… It’s… It’s going to be… Okay…” Risvyn gave a very weak smile, reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently. Tears threatened to spill over, stinging the edges of her eyes. “Alright, Hades?”

Hades looked down, steeling himself, but so too did his own tears threaten to spill, and he squeezed Risvyn’s sweet little hand.

“Alright, my Delilah-”

The towering shadow dived into Hades and crashed through him, a white dragon made of pure light, of immeasurable length, that erupted from the ocean of blank sand. His breath was stolen as it’s body disappeared in a massive burst of aether on the other side of his hefty soul, impaling Hades with it’s life until the very tip of it’s tail dissipated into nothingness.

Hades collapsed next to Risvyn.

\---------------

_In a barren place where life cannot tread,_

_the man in white shudders, a feeling of dread…_

“Oblivion has claimed him…”

_Meanwhile, in Garlemald…_

The crown prince stood over the fresh corpse of his father, Varis. Having recently reclaimed his own body from Elidibus with ease, his thoughts wandered to his only friend. Elidibus explained a lot about the present situation to Zenos, and he could only wonder if she would ever return to him. His mind oft fixated on just how much fire could be in that little cat, literally and metaphorically, and how it was charming in a way. He made his leave, interested not in claiming the throne of Garlemald. Politics were a massive bore for him when his forebears were alive and he definitely doesn’t seek to be the prince progeny of boredom. No, he lived only for the hunt, and for now he will stake out the lands as he eagerly awaits fire and smoke to fill his lungs once more.

\---------------

Thancred was fast walking through Kholusia, heading for the Tempest to have a word with the suspected Ascian trying to throw them for a loop... Or to find Risvyn, whichever happens first. It was then that the very sky cut open as far as the eye could see, revealing the wonderful sunset gradient beneath, speckled with stars. He looked up in awe, which turned to confusion. Where was Risvyn now if the light is gone? What happened? His pace quickened to get to the bottom of this.

G’raha Tia stood in the plaza of the Crystarium, looking up at the freshly peeled sky in wonder, but he agreed to stay there to keep watch. “I wonder what happened..?” G’raha spoke softly to the sky, though the people of Norvrandt were all celebrating once more, the Scions were all at unease. Thancred went off to Kholusia and the Tempest of his own volition, Y’shtola claimed Rak’tika, Urianger took Il Mheg, and the twins and Ryne went to Ahm Araeng. All in an attempt to figure out where their neglected warrior has gone.

While the other Scions’ paths were destined for naught, the pack of children wandering the desert slowly homed in on the answer.

“Wait, I… see something? I don’t know if I’ve seen this before so I’m not sure...” Ryne spoke up, eyes fixated on the horizon towards the Empty. “It looks like… A vast spray of light spreading into the sky and fading away, but it’s out in the Empty.”

“That might be what we’re looking for. Let’s go!” Alphinaud led them ahead towards the airship that carried them across the Empty. Once seated, Alisae opted to drive and they traveled far across the wasteland in the direction Ryne saw the peculiarity. It took a good while to reach the ruins that had the aether scattered, which now faded by a considerable amount. They landed the skyslipper and got out to identify the area, Ryne taking to looking up at an angle and tracking the wave the aether traveled in with her finger.

“It’s like someone kicked up something of immense power and spewed it out! Ryne exclaimed.

Alisae hummed with thought “Could a sin eater have been involved? Not that there’s many left, but I wouldn’t put it past that a few still wander out here.”

“Maybe, but… Now that we’re here, I can see not just light, but darkness too. Both within the same space.”

Alisae’s eyes widened, “Darkness? Do you think… Did Risvyn and Emet fight? Or could Elidibus have caught on… Alphinaud, do you see any tracks? Signs of struggle?”

“Not quite in these ruins, it’s hard to say how much of it is ruin and how much of it was struggle… Oh- Over there!” Alphinaud pointed to nearly faded tracks in the sand. “It… Looks like something was being dragged? I don’t see footsteps.”

“Let’s try to follow, before the dust picks up and erases it. I’ll drive the skyslip slowly behind you two while you follow the trail up close.” Alisae suggested, and the other two nodded in agreement, setting out to follow the dragging trail. Though it took a massive waste of time for them to traverse Amh Araeng, and then the Empty. Then a further waste of time tracking the trail at a snail’s pace. Whoever left this trail seemed to have a bad sense of direction, making a wide arc towards the opening in the wall of light. Perhaps this is what led to them not being seen initially when they first flew over in the skyslipper.

It was far past nightfall when they tracked the trail all the way back to Amh Araeng. They were beyond tired, except for Alisae who was in the comfort of the skyslipper. “Well this was a massive waste of time, surely the wind had kicked up inside the walls far quicker than outside.” Alphinaud spoke, getting back into the ship with Ryne. 

“We should ask if anyone spotted anything at Journey’s Head.” Alisae docked the skyslipper and they all walked to the Inn, looking for a guard awake at this hour. They approached a young hume man standing watch just outside. “Hello, have you seen anyone, or anything, out of the ordinary pass through here? Specifically coming from the Empty?” Alisae inquired.

“Aye, it was already getting dark but we spotted a figure luggin’ around something larger than them tumble out from the wall of light. We tracked it as best we could with what little light was left, but they disappeared towards the southern hills.” The guard informed.

“Fits the tracks we saw… but who is dragging what out of the Empty of all places? This doesn’t add up.” Alisae put her hand on her chin, thinking. Though, her thinking was distracted by Ryne yawning. 

“It’s… late.” Ryne pointed out, gazing at the twins with a sleepy expression.

Alphinaud sighed, “You’re right, it is-” the end of his statement came out in a yawn, too. “Our quarrel would probably need to rest too, considering their trajectory is towards Lakeland, perhaps we should sleep here and return to the Crystarium in the morning. Maybe someone would have found them, or learned something.”

“I suppose.” Alisae agreed. Ryne and the twins made their way to Mord Souq to stay at the inn for the night.

The Exarch stood before his viewport, all the Scions resting in their respective scouting areas, having found nothing, save for the youngins in Amh Araeng. Trajectory towards Lakeland? Perhaps his guards may have seen something. He strolled out to the main gate to Lakeland, addressing the guards. “Anything to report? We’ve been scouring for somebody so if you’ve seen anyone strange, even the Warrior of Darkness, I need to know.”

The guards, distracted from their posts, locked eyes with the Exarch. How ironic of a distraction. “Nope, nothing to report. The night has been peaceful.” A soft shuffle of shoe against rock and weight against ground gone unnoticed amidst speech.

Exarch nodded, “Very well, please send for me if something is seen.” He turned back towards the tower, resigning for the night, lest a guard does send for him after all.

The night continued in peace, and not a soul knew any better.


End file.
